


According to Plan

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zählt
Genre: Dark Crack, Gen, M/M, Off-screen Character Death, cracky character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-16
Updated: 2010-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marc knew he would never win Roman's heart as himself. After all, he was the past and Deniz was the future and he was not hot and Deniz was SO CUTE and the PERFECT BOYFRIEND. This had been confirmed by focus groups. So there was only one thing to do, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	According to Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Hahahahah, omg. Okay. So someone on YouTube was all "Marc, when are you going to learn that you are no Deniz Öztürk???", which had me crack up as I imagined Marc trying to impersonate Deniz and then Praderwilli was all "Fanfic bitte?" and I was all, "Oh fucking hell, why not", so... WILLI, YOU CUNNING FOX, THIS IS FOR YOU. And then Shelly came along and hyena'd at me and commanded me to post somewhere linkable and I cannot deny her, so...

Marc's hands were only shaking slightly as he rinsed them under the tap in the locker room. He noted it with clinical detachment and willed them to stop. Deniz's long limbs were surprisingly difficult to cram into the tiny shower stall, almost as if he was defying Marc even in death. Marc resolutely didn't look at his slack-mouthed, still face as he shoved his legs towards the corner and then pulled the shower curtain shut on the sight.

Returning to the sink, he pulled off his blazer and shirt and retrieved Deniz's green-and-white lumberjack shirt from his gym bag. It was a little tight across Marc's chest, but if he hunched his shoulders and no one looked too closely, it would do. He looped Deniz's white belt around the waist of his jeans, then popped in the contacts, blinking a little at the initial sting. The package of dark hair dye sat next to the mirror, ready for application. Marc stared at the closed shower curtain in the mirror for a second. Had it moved? No, of course not. He was imagining things. The boy was dead, his lungs full of water. He was out of the way. All was going according to plan.

Taking a deep breath, Marc returned his gaze to his own face, noting absently that he'd have to shave before he injected the botox into his lips. It was odd, looking at his own eyes in a stranger's colour.

"Dude," he said in a low voice, testing out the unfamiliar word, rolling it around his mouth. Then he cleared his throat and lowered his voice more, attempting Deniz's amused youthful timbre. "Duuuuude."

It sounded good. Accurate. Satisfied, Marc smiled at himself. "We'll rock this thing."


End file.
